


Campageddon

by DisraeliGears



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Camping, Get Together, Jack gets a bit protective, Jack still plays in the NHL, M/M, Post-Graduation, Road Trip, alt. first kiss, alt. get together, no Graduation kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8182246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisraeliGears/pseuds/DisraeliGears
Summary: Shitty rounds up everyone for a camping trip, and Jack tags along.Bitty is frazzled.aka the classic BUT WHAT IF BAD BOB DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING fic.





	

“LADS AND GENTLEFOLK; CAMPAGEDDON BEGINS NOW.”

Bitty can’t contain his grin. He gets up from where he was laying across his bed, feet up on his packed bag. It’s been months since he’s heard Shitty’s voice  _ not _ over Skype or the phone, and just hearing it echo through the Haus makes him almost tear up in nostalgic joy.

‘Campageddon’ had been Shitty’s idea. He’d called from Harvard about a month ago and announced that he wanted to go fall camping at the lake half an hour from Samwell. He said it was a) an excuse to get ‘totally dickered, boys’, and b) going to also entail a ‘truly superb surprise.’ Holster and Ransom had automatically agreed, Bitty had said ‘well, obviously, are ya’ll kidding?’, and Nursey and Dex insisted they’d be fine sharing a tent as long as Chowder slept in between them for a ‘no dweeb zone’. This had melted down into a ‘ _ you’re  _ the dweeb’, ‘no,  _ you’re  _ the friggin’ dweeb’ fight until Holster had kicked one of them in the shin.

Shitty had called Bitty a week before Campageddon, talking out groceries and cooking plans. Bitty baked one huge cooler full of pies, went shopping, and had cheered in delight when Shitty had added that yes, Lardo was coming, she could sleep in Shitty’s tent with him, he’s already asked.

“But…wait, then do you have a tent for me? Who am I sharing with?”

“Yes, Bits, it’s fine. I have actual loads of tents; my parents are totally nutso for Cabela’s.”

And that had been that.

 

 

The night before they left, Ransom and Holster had been speculating on the surprise.

“Fireworks. He shaved his mustache. HE BOUGHT A CAR.” Holster had blurted.

“Oh fuck. Wait…what if,  _ and bear with me now _ , he bought us puppies?”

“Oh fuck man, I want a fucking puppy.”

 

 

Bitty crashes part way down the stairs under the weight of his huge bag, pillow and Senor Bun dangling from his teeth.

Shitty is standing at the door, still mustachioed and wearing his classic shades. Everyone is crowded at the door, piling their bags and making a load of excited noise and hugging Shitty.

“BITS!” He yells, and throws his arms wide, barely missing smacking Lardo, who is used to it and ducks neatly.

“Hiya, Shitty. Can you grab the coolers? They’re all ready to go, they’re just in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I can. But first, ladies and germs and gender non-conformists, I must give you... _ The Surprise!”  _ Shitty hold out his hands like a preacher and glares at the assembled Haus.

“You may remember him as the strange older gentleman who stayed upstairs with me. You may remember him as the unfairly attractive French Canadian boy, heir to the greatest hockey dynasty of all time…  _ you may remember him as newly minted NHL player and probably Olympian next year (but for the wrong country) … _ ” Shitty turns to the door, and on clearly rehearsed cue, Jack Zimmerman steps into the doorway.

A cheer goes up, and the frogs almost turn inside out in excitement. Ransom and Holster tackle him and proceed to simultaneously try carry him out onto the grass and sit on him in the foyer.

Bitty, from where he stands on the stairs, is grinning, but his heart is hammering in his chest and he feels dizzy.

 

 

He hasn’t seen Jack in two months. Jack had invited Bitty, Shitty, Rans, Holster and Lardo to New York for a gala opening his mother was sponsoring. It had been glamorous and beautiful, and Jack had been in a custom navy designer suit that had made Bitty blush bright red. Jack had looked so famous, so ridiculously gorgeous and unattainable, that Bitty had cried himself to sleep that night in his hotel room. When they’d been at Samwell together, Jack being anything more than his friend had seemed impossible. Now, it was a laughable pipe dream. Jack Zimmerman was seeing the world and what it had to offer him, and that was a lot more than Bitty did.

Everything aside, seeing his face again reminds him how desperately and completely he’s missed Jack Zimmerman.

 

 

“This special and beautiful duckling has a weekend off, and therefore, will be joining us for Campageddon.” Shitty is saying, shoving Jack’s arm.

“Freakin’ sweet, Cap.” Ransom says, and ruffles Jack’s already ruffled hair.

“Shouldn’t I be calling you Cap?” Jack is grinning, and his teeth are as perfect as they’ve always been. He’s been wearing his mouth guard and hasn’t taken any high-sticking to the grill yet. Bitty is incredibly thankful.

“You can be honorary Cap for the weekend.” Holster says nobly.

Jack looks up the stairs and smirks in that awkward, semi-unsure way that makes Bitty melt every time. Bitty drops his pillow and Senor Bun from between his teeth.

“Hey, Bitty.”

“Hi Jack.” Bitty says. He can’t help but grin back. Despite the tug of war being played with his heart, he smiles so hard his cheeks ache.

Bitty comes down the last few stairs and drops his bag. Up close, Jack is just as tall and handsome as he’s always been, only now even bigger from NHL training. When he reaches out to one-arm hug Bitty, his flexing biceps and triceps strain against his t-shirt sleeve and make Bitty blush even harder. He hides it by turning his face away from the hug, and ignoring the smell of expensive aftershave.

Chowder looks flabbergasted from where he stands on the stairs, holding his Sharks sleeping bag and pillow.

“Wait so…Jack is coming camping?” his voice is slightly higher than usual.

“You better fucking believe it, Chow. Zimms  _ all up in this bitch _ .” Ransom says, he and Holster successfully pull off a no-look high five.

“Seriously though, gentlemen and singular yet irreplaceable lady; we gotta hit the trails. We have to set up shop then get wasteycakes. Onwards!” Shitty begins to herd people out of the Haus.

“Jack, could you be a darling and get the coolers from the kitchen? Shitty is too excitable.” Bitty shoulders his bag and stuff his pillow under his arm.

“Ya, sure.” Jack says, and does as he’s asked without a second of complaint.

Like he always does.

_ Damn that boy. _ Bitty thinks.

There’s a huge brand new black King Ranch pickup truck parked at the curb, and Shitty is throwing bags, tents, sleeping bags and bedrolls into the back.

“Whose ride is this?” Dex says appreciatively, hands on his hips.

“I believe the answer you’re looking for is ‘who has an NHL salary?’” Lardo is tossing her keys to her Jetta from hand to hand.

“Zimmerman, is this your new ride?!” Holster shouts back at the Haus, just as Jack emerges carrying two coolers; one small one with a handle on his elbow, another big one in his arms.  Bitty is entirely ignoring his muscles again.

“Yes, and please, no one spill anything in it. Or on it.”

“How’re we splitting up rides? Who goes with who?” Nursey has a backpack bursting with chips that he’s trying to zip closed, and is failing.

“I will go with Lards, as her navigator extraordinaire.” Shitty proclaims, and withdraws a map book from somewhere about his person.

Bitty swallows and tries not acknowledge the part of him that wants desperately to ride with Jack in his truck. He wants to sit beside him, like they used to, and grin at him and talk about…anything. Everything.

He carefully places the coolers in the back, having carried two more small ones himself, and he nestles them in among the bags. Jack helps, brows furrowed in concentration. When he sees Bitty glancing at him though, he smirks and his eyes are so blue at that moment that Bitty feels his stomach clench and turn.

“Okay. Here’s how it is. Rans, Holster, you’re in the Wagon with us. Her name is Helga; she is a special German lady, she commands respect, and therefore, there will be no en route ice cream enjoyed on this trip.” Lardo waves her arms at them, and they head off towards the little car, parked a ways up the street, “Chowder, Nursey, Dex; you three are in the back of Jack’s truck. Bitty is your babysitter; if I hear about  _ any and I mean any  _ snarking or bickering…you’re on jockstrap laundry and skate deodorizer duty until New Years. Chowder, you’re in the middle, which I have a feeling you will be often this weekend.”

Bitty tries to swallow the apprehension in his throat as he climbs into shotgun, ignoring the excited babbling behind. Jack swings up into the tall vehicle with ease, starting the ignition.

“So. What music are we listening to, eh?” he gives Bitty an eyebrow. With his French Canadian accent, the ‘eh’ turns more into an ‘hah?’, and Bity realizes how badly he’s missed that sound.

“I have CDs.” Chowder volunteers.

“First off; no car newer than 2010 has a CD player. Second; no one wants to listen to Blink 182. It’s not 2005 anymore. Grow up.” Dex says.

“Now, now!” Bitty says, waving them into silence as Jack pulls away from the curb, “We will have no shaming in this car. Ya’ll are going to have a musical education, starting with Destiny’s Child. Any and all complaints will be fielded out the window and completely disregarded.”

“Well, I mean, I  _ do _ have Sirius-” Jack starts.

“Hush now. We’re teaching these boys.”

“Aw, shit man. I thought this would be the Fun Vee. Like in Iron Man.” Dex says, and he’s pouting more than a little bit.

“Dude.” Nursey says, “Everyone in the Fun Vee gets killed except Tony Stark. That’s the point of that whole movie.”

“ _ I said hush now _ !” Bitty yells, and they fall silent.

Jack is laughing, his shoulders shaking. Bitty grins back so hard his cheeks hurt again, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

 

 

Riding in the truck with Jack is fine. Bitty is fine. He can feel his pulse in his ears, and taste the butterflies in his stomach flying up into his mouth, but he’s  _ fine _ .

Listening to the three in the back bicker is a sort of distraction that Bitty allows himself, so he can’t stare at Jack. At his hair, a bit longer now and almost falling in his eyes. At his forearms, which ripple slightly every time he shifts his grip on the steering wheel. At the long, lean line of him in a plain grey t-shirt and perfectly fitted jeans. The jeans, which show off his skater’s thighs and trim waist and hug tight to…his… _ Jesus, Mary and Joseph. _

Sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s trying to convince himself he  _ will _ get over this little…thing…of his, he tells himself that Jack Zimmerman is not as attractive as Bitty has built him up to be.

God, he’s definitely wrong.

As if he hears Bitty’s thoughts, Jack glances over at him and gives a sort of worried smile.

“You okay, Bitty? Not carsick, right?”

_ So, so wrong. _

“Don’t you chirp me! I just ain’t used to seeing you driving a great big Ford truck. Anyone would think you were an American!”  Bitty crosses his arms and tries to look annoyed.

The pleased smirk he gets back makes it literally impossible to be upset.

“If you’re sure…I think I have a plastic bag in here, just in case.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and goes to look out the window to hide his big giddy grin.

“Lord almighty.” Bitty says, pulling down the sunshade, “I thought the sun was supposed to have calmed down by now.” He squints at the road.

“Oh! Here, look.” Jack reaches overhead and a little pop-down compartment opens when he touches a button. His hand comes down with a pair of aviator sunglasses.

He hands them to Bitty.

Bitty raises an eyebrow and takes them. They’re  _ heavy,  _ and the hardware is nice looking.

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman. Are these  _ real  _ Armani sunglasses?” Bitty puts them on his face and gives Jack a real good eyebrow lift.

Jack suddenly looks sheepish.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“You  _ bought  _ them?”

“No. The uh…the rep, Gavin. He gave me them.”

Bitty tilts his head.

“And why are you talking to Gavin the Armani rep, Jack? Are you getting a suit made?! Please say yes!” Bitty is grinning again, even more so when he sees the blush creeping onto Jack’s face.

“Uh. No.” he looks in the rear-view mirror at the Frogs, trying to gauge their interest level.

They’re arguing over who would win; Superman or Goku, and aren’t listening.

“It’s…kinda embarrassing, I guess.” Jack says.

Bitty raises his eyebrows. Jack trusting him with a secret is new. It’s never happened before.

“I won’t tell a soul. I swear.” Bitty crosses his heart, and keeps his voice down so as not to alert the backseat bickerers.

Jack sighs resignedly.

“Gavin was at that gala thing you guys came to. He saw me and…” Jack is blushing now, really blushing, “He asked if I would…do some photos for them.”

Bitty’s lower jaw almost falls off.

“ _ Are you telling me, Jack Zimmerman, that you’re going to model for Armani? _ ” he hisses and tries to stay calm.

“No! No. I said…well, I took his card. And I didn’t get back to him, but he sent over this  _ huge box  _ of shit to my apartment. Like… _ lots _ of shit, Bitty. Fancy shit.”

“Oh. My. Goodness.” Bitty sits back in his seat and crosses his arms, “You’re gonna be so famous, and you’re gonna be leaving us all way in the dust.”

Saying it out loud hurts, and suddenly Bitty has a lump in his throat. He tries to swallow it like a big pill.

Jack suddenly looks distraught. His dark eyebrows furrow, like they did so often when Bitty first met him. ( _ ‘You need more protein, Bittle.’) _

“No. I would never forget you guys, Bitty. You’re like a part of my family; it doesn’t matter what happens, that’ll always be true.”

Bitty nods and doesn’t trust himself to speak. He’s not sure he believes it, because sometimes things just happen. But hearing it eases the ache just a bit.

“But…yeah. So. I don’t think I’m going to do it. It’s just…not me. You know.” Jack is looking ahead now, at the road. His forehead is still wrinkled.

“Oh, I dunno. It’ll make you some money. Lots of it.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but NHL contracts aren’t really known for being chintzy.”

Jack gives Bitty a look, and there’s a smirk in it.

Bitty rolls his eyes, glad to change the subject.

The rest of the short drive is pretty quiet, the music keeping them company. Dex, Nursey and Chowder fall quiet and let themselves be educated, sharing a bag of Nursey’s chips between them.

Bitty takes a handful of chips and looks out the window, then finds himself suddenly remembering David Beckham modelling for Armani, and  _ oh god _ , the underwear.

What if,  _ may the lord have mercy on his soul _ , Jack modelled underwear? Sprawled across a chair or an artfully messy bed, glorious body on display for all the world to see, glistening like the wet dream version of a Greek god.

By the time they pull into the campground, Bitty is blushing deep, deep crimson.

 

 

Setting up the tents turns out to be a total fucking gong show.

Shitty is utter crap at it, only getting increasingly confused the more Lardo explains the instructions and waves them in his face.

Ransom and Holster turn out to be superb at setting up tents, but they keep stopping to have sword fights with the poles and trying to burrito Chowder in the fly he’s trying to unfold.

Dex and Nursey are understandably grumpy about setting up their tent, but theirs is the largest of them all, and newest, so it goes together easier despite the occasional snark and Nursey saying “Chill” once every few minutes. Chowder helps as best he can, in spite of constantly having Ransom pick him up and net him like a butterfly.

Bitty and Jack help Lardo and Shitty with their tent, staking down the tarp and taking over when Shitty almost breaks a pole for the third time. Jack is tall enough and his arms are long, so putting up the tent is easy work for him. He seems to have a good eye for engineering, and Bitty mentions this.

“You’re right, Bitty. I should go back to school for eight years and get a PhD in Engineering. Hockey is a waste of my time.” Jack is smirking, so Bitty switches him across the ass with a pole, blushing brightly as he does so.

By the time they’re done, Holster’s made a fire and Ransom is rationing beer, although it’s unlikely they would run out were they to stay for a month, not two nights.

Bitty wipes his forehead and looks around, taking an inventory.

“Ok. Wait…which tent is that?” he points at the black one, still on the ground and in its bag.

“Ours. We have to sleep somewhere.” Jack says. He’s giving Bitty a look.

Bitty suddenly realizes that he’s completely forgotten about sleeping arrangements for himself. And in so doing, has forgotten that Jack also needs to sleep in a tent.

Which, apparently, he will be doing with Bitty.

“Uh. Right. Yes.”

Jack picks up the bag, and as he stoops, his beautiful broad shoulders tug at his t-shirt, which hikes up just enough to see a strip of skin…and….

…Oh no…

…Bitty looks up at the sky and beseeches God for punishing him in this way…

…because also revealed is the fact that yes, Jack Zimmerman is indeed wearing Armani underwear.

 

 

They set up the tent pretty quickly. Jack tries to start a conversation a few times, but Bitty is quiet.

It hurts a bit, to think about sharing a tent with Jack. He finds himself dreading it, and considering how much his chest already aches just being this close to him, he doesn’t know how he’ll cope.

Don’t fall for a straight boy.

 

 

By the time they’ve got the tent up, bed rolls out and their sleeping bags set up, everyone else wants to go for a hike.

“What if there’s bears?” Chowder says, looking worried as they walk through the campground towards the walking trails.

“There aren’t bears.” Dex rolls his eyes.

“There might be bears.” Ransom counters, “Are you a bear expert, Pointdexter?”

“Oh, shush.” Bitty says, and flaps his hand at Ransom, pausing in choosing an Instagram filter for the fall leaves he’s just taken a picture of, “Chowder; if there’s bears, we just gotta run faster than the slowest person.”

“I will be employing the timeless classic, ‘human shield’.” Shitty says, and Bitty yelps as he’s picked up and held bridal style. “I will give the bear Bitty as thanks for allowing us to crash in it’s beautiful wilderness home. Like a Mayan sacrifice.”

“Ya’ll maybe consider maybe I don’t want to be the sacrifice?” Bitty says dryly, raising an eyebrow. He’s used to being manhandled by now; being the smallest one in a house full of touchy feely sports dudes will do that.

“Bits is  _ my  _ sacrifice to the bear gods. You can have Lardo.” Holster appears out of nowhere and grabs Bitty, yanking him away.

“Good grief. If you drop me, your pie portions are being given to the bear gods, not me.” Bitty grabs Holster’s sweater for support.

“Dude, what the fuck? Who’s  _ my  _ sacrifice to the bear gods?” Ransom throws his hands in the air.

“Okay, fine. We can be double sacrifices together. Zimmerman, catch!”

Bitty doesn’t have time to react before he’s just short of literally tossed to Jack, who catches him without any fuss or trouble. His arms are big and warm and Bitty can feel his pecs, hard and flexed against his side.

Jack is grinning as he carefully lowers Bitty to the ground. Bitty is blushing and tries to look nonchalant, and pretend he can’t still feel the phantom touch of Jack’s chest and arms and hands.

The road gives way to a wooded path, and the air smells sweet and close and fresh. Shitty starts a pinecone collection in his pockets, and Chowder starts to hesitantly ask Jack questions about the NHL. Jack answers them honestly and with humble enthusiasm, which makes Bitty’s heart melt a bit.

Bitty takes a bunch of photos of the sunlight filtering through the trees, and of dying flowers and leaf litter. He takes pictures of Dex trying to climb a tree and falling on his ass. Jack laments he didn’t bring his camera; he just bought a new DSLR with his first paycheque and wanted to break it in. Lardo calls him a ‘dingus’ and Jack grabs her and twirls her around, making her kick her legs and almost nut Holster, who’s standing too close.

Bitty is kneeling and about to take a photo of a bird skeleton when suddenly he feels breath ghost across his neck, and he almost falls over.

Jack is leaning over him, trying to see what he’s taking a photo of.

“Cool find, Bitty.” He says, and Bitty can smell his aftershave again.

They walk another fifteen minutes, and about that time, Dex yells

“Holy shit guys, I think nature might be so fucking boring.”

“Pointdexter, YOU UNCULTURED SWINE.” Shitty yells, and throws a pine cone at him.

Regardless, Holster announces he’s ‘getting a tad peckish, guys’, which they all know means he’s going to start getting hangry any time now, so they take the next trail back to the campsite.

 

 

Bitty breaks out the coolers and sends Jack, Shitty and Nursey to collect driftwood for the fire from the beach a few sites over. They roast hotdogs, which quickly turns into a ‘how many wieners can you fit in one bun and still bite’ competition. Bitty sets everyone up for s’mores, and Dex immediately burns himself when he grabs his marshmallow too early and then flings molten sugar goo all over trying to get it off his fingers. A chunk lands on Ransom’s arm, and he just closes his eyes and says, through gritted teeth, “You’re lucky I like you, bro.”

Bitty sits beside Jack in the circle of lawn chairs. He’s grinning watching Shitty and Lardo try construct a s’more tower, and the firelight is playing across his face. Bitty can’t help the way his heart lurches a bit; he looks so gorgeous that it almost seems surreal.

It’s cooling off, and Bitty is shivering under his thin coat. He hadn’t been expecting the chill; were he in Georgia, it would still be hot and humid at this time of year, even at night.

“Yo!” Holster suddenly says, and jumps upright, “Night swim! Let’s fuckin; do it!”

A chorus of agreement echoes around the site, and Bitty looks at them all incredulously.

“Are ya’ll brain dead? It’s colder than hell out here!”

“Aw, c’mon Bits. It’s like not even below fifteen yet.” Ransom says, and Bitty glares at him.

“I don’t speak Celsius, Mr. Oluransi.”

“He means it’s not cold” Jack says, standing up. He unzips his hoodie and throws it over his chair, then holds out his hand to Bitty to pull him up. “It’ll be fine. The water will probably feel warm.”

Bitty grumbles and lets himself be pulled onto his feet.

“Piggyback races to the beach, go!” Holster yells and leaps onto Ransom’s back.

“What?” Shitty says, trying to stabilize the tower of graham crackers.

“Too slow. I want to win.” Lardo says, and takes a flying leap onto Chowder’s back, who squeals and almost falls over, “Run, Chowder, or I’ll start kicking.”

They’re off into the darkness, and Jack grins at Bitty. He turns around and bends his knees.

“C’mon, Bits. It’s like cross-training; you’re helping me get a workout in.” He’s looking back his shoulder at him.

Bitty ignores his hammering heart and climbs onto Jack’s back, once again internally shuddering at how  _ warm _ and  _ toned _ Jack’s torso is. Jack grabs him behind the knees and Bitty wraps his arms around his neck, smelling the crisp scent of his hair.

They take off running, and Bitty tries to stop himself screaming in Jack’s ear as they overtake Lardo and Chowder. Dex and Nursey are yelling at each other over neither wanting to ride on the other’s back, and are running alongside. Shitty lets the tower fall and sprints after them, smacking their asses as he passes in between.

“Midnight ass slapper!” he yells as he goes, “He’s like sasquatch except way fucking weirder!”

Jack laughs, and Bitty can feel it against his chest and belly. His cheek is in Jack’s hair, and his chin on the bare skin of his neck, which is  _ so _ soft and fine.

They run onto the beach, where Holster and Ransom are already throwing off their clothes and making a haphazard pile on the ground. It’s not a sand beach, but rather made up of fist sized, well-rounded rocks in about six different colours. They roll underfoot, and Jack lets Bitty down.

“Well, we got second.” He says, wiping his hair out of his eyes with one hand.

Any response Bitty would have made is swallowed up when Jack peels off his shirt and adds it to the growing pile.

Bitty’s seen him naked,  _ sort of _ , in passing, in the locker room and in the showers at Faber, but he always made a point to not look. That was how locker rooms worked.

But now…well, it’s been a while since then. And Jack’s muscles are even bigger and more impressive than they ever were at Samwell. And absence has only made Bitty’s heart grow fonder.

Among other things.

“Shitty, leave your underwear  _ on _ ; there are innocent people at this beach!” Lardo yells, but it’s too late, and Shitty is Full Monty and running after her, chasing her into the water still in her jeans.

“Is it cold?” Chowder asks, standing in his Sharks boxer shorts at the edge of the water, arms crossed.

Nursey splashes him as he runs past, and Chowder squeals again.

Bitty swallows and glances back to Jack, who’s now stepping out of his jeans and…yes, he’s wearing black Armani boxer briefs and Bitty decides not to look anymore because he can’t handle the world famous Jack Zimmerman Ass right now.

“Let’s go, Bitty!” Jack says, jogging past him towards the black water.

Bitty shakes his head and clutches his jacket tighter around him.

“No, thanks. I’d rather stay dry and not hypothermic, if ya’ll don’t mind.”

Bitty sits down on a big washed up log and watches, heart in his throat as the most beautiful man in the world runs into the water and tackles Ransom, who flails like a sea lion being eaten by a shark.

“It’s nice, Bitty!” Lardo yells from the water. She’s still completely dressed, after Shitty essentially dunked her.

Bitty smiles, but he knows it’s a grimace.

He realizes, as he watches them all wrestle in the inky dark water, that he wishes he hadn’t come camping. That he’d known Jack was coming.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see him, because he does. He wants to see him more than  _ anything _ , so badly it’s all he thinks about some days.

But he also knows how much more not having Jack, not being with him all the time, is going to hurt after this weekend.

Bitty knows that he’s probably not wanted anything more in his life. And it sucks.

Lardo comes wading out of the water, her clothes completely soaked. She walks up to Bitty, and shakes her head like a dog, sending water flying everywhere.

“ _ Lardo! _ ” Bitty says, shielding his face with his hand.

“What? It’s just water.” She plops down next to him on the log with a squelching noise.

They look back out over the lake. In the moonlight, they can see that Ransom has Nursey on his shoulders, and Jack has Holster, and the two are wrestling and trying to dump the other off.

“No scratching!”

“Well then no hair pulling, ya fuckin’ hooligan!”

Lardo is grinning beside Bitty, but when she notices his slight frown, she raises an eyebrow.

“Bits? What’s up? You look…you know. Not happy.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Bitty says, trying to sound cheerful, but a lump in his throat is choking him.

Lardo turns to look at him straight on.

“Bitty. If you’re upset about something, you can tell me. We’re camping; you should be having a good time, not clearly trying to stop yourself from crying.”

Damn Lardo and her feminine wiles.

“Ya. Well.” Bitty says, and wipes his eye hard with his palm.

“Bits.” She says quietly, and Bitty sighs.

“It’s just…sometimes, I feel… a little lost, I guess.”

“Lost?”

“Well. Lonely, maybe.”

“Oh.” Bitty looks at her, and he can see understanding dawning. Her eyebrows furrow a little, and she give him a sincere look of concern.

“I know the feeling, Bits.”

“Ya. Well. It sucks. Wanting something  _ this bad,  _ but…knowing it’s not going to happen, and it can’t happen no matter what. It  _ really  _ sucks.” Bitty realizes he sounds bitter, but it feels good to say out loud.

Lardo isn’t saying anything. She’s looking out at the hockey team thrashing around in the water, her face contemplative.

She looks back at Bitty.

“It’s Jack, isn’t it.” She says quietly.

_ DAMN  _ her feminine wiles.

Bitty grimaces.

“You’re relaxed around all the guys at the Haus, but when Jack’s here, you’re all…” she pauses, “like when he touches you, you get all…tight. Like it’s-”

“Simultaneously the best and worst thing in the world?” Bitty mumbles.

“Yeah.” Lardo says kindly.

They sit in silence for a little while, listening to the splashing and hooting.

“Is it that obvious?” Bitty says, hugging his knees to his chest. Being a figure skater and all, his balance is pretty good, so he doesn’t tip off.

“No. Boys are completely oblivious, Bits, I doubt any of them have any idea. I promise. And I can run interference. If you want.”

Bitty sniffs and wipes a tear roughly off his cheek.

“No. It’s fine.”

“I could put Shitty with Jack, and you could bunk with me. It’d be fun.”

Bitty sighs.

“Just leave it. It’s fine.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The swimming doesn’t last much longer, but there’s no wind and the air apparently feels warm once they get out, so they all walk back to the campground dripping and undressed. Bitty walks ahead so he doesn’t have to watch, and carries an armful of clothes. Jack’s shirt is on top,  _ somehow _ , and it smells incredible. He shifts the pile so it’s under his arm instead.

 

When they get back to camp, everyone gets into pajamas and someone starts passing around a flask of whiskey, which Chowder says they should add to hot chocolate, and Ransom’s mouth falls open with a ‘ _ YES,  _ lil’ man.  _ Yes! _ ’

Bitty whips up some hot chocolate with a kettle over the fire, and they all sit around and clutch their mugs. Even Jack has some, and he adds a tiny nip of whiskey too.

“So, Zimmerman. Tell us.” Holster says as Bitty takes up his own cocoa and sits back in his seat, “There’s puck bunnies, right?”

Jack rolls his eyes and looks into his mug, smirking a bit.

“Sure. But not for me- I barely have time to call my own mother, let alone hang out with someone.”

Bitty shrinks down in his seat and tries not to look at Lardo. 

“Boo! I don’t believe it!” Shitty says, and throws an empty beer can at Jack across the fire, who fields it neatly and throws it right back.

“Really? C’mon. Dude. No hot Victoria Secret models or country singers or anything?”

“I think there was a Sports Illustrated girl at a sponsors gala thing in Anaheim a week ago. The bathing suit issue. Sorry, I don’t remember. Giant boobs, though.” Jack has a tiny smile on his face, and he’s raising one eyebrow.

Ransom and Holster both make keening noises, and Chowder is blushing. 

“Oh my God, you’re fucking with them, aren’t you, Zimmerman!” Lardo says with mock horror.

Jack beams and this time it’s Holster that boos.

“ _ Dick move, ex-Cap.”  _ Ransom pouts, and dumps more whiskey into his hot chocolate.

“I have an idea!” Shitty says, and gestured grandly at the circle of chairs, “I propose...a scary story off.”

“ _ Merde _ ; is this like that time you wanted us to tell horror stories in Freshman year, but you just ended up on a rant about capitalism?” Jack looks unimpressed.

“Well, fine; if you’re gonna take that grumpy fucking tone, Mr. Cynical Frenchie McLarge Ass,  _ you  _ go first.” Shitty waggles his eyebrows.

Jack sighs and shifts in his seat. 

“Uh…” he looks up at the night sky for a moment, thinking, then back down. “Hah. Yes. Okay- so. This was like...two years ago, I think. I came in late one night during a Haus party. I think I was at the library? Or maybe my parents were in town and took me to dinner and a movie. I don’t remember. Anyway, so I come home, and the party’s still going insane. I think Shitty was trying to set up a hurdle course around the yard with hockey sticks and beer cans.”

“Ah. Yes. That was a good night.” Shitty says wistfully. 

“So I go upstairs-”

“Because you’re Jack Zimmerman; star of No Fun Freddie: The Original Series.” Holster adds.

Jack flips him off and continues.

“I went upstairs, and I noticed my door was open. I usually lock it when I go out, but apparently I didn’t this time. So I go in, and it’s totally empty. There’s no one in there, and the bed’s still all made-”

“You make your bed every day?” Nursey says, looking amused.

“Oh fuck off,  _ Derek _ .” Ransom says, “Let the man have what’s left of his dignity.”

“So  _ upon a closer inspection, _ ” Jack says, ignoring the interruption, “Everything seems fine. So I brush my teeth and whatever, and I go to bed. No big deal.”

Bitty sucks in air through his teeth. He doesn’t know where this story is going, but he’s got a pretty good general idea.

“So, I wake up,” Jack is grinning now, and laughing as he talks, “And I kinda shifted around, and...uh, well, my  _ hand _ touched something under my pillow…”

There’s pained ‘ooo’s from around the fire, and Bitty has two handfuls of hair. 

“...and I look...and it not  _ only _ is it a condom…”

Disgusted and enraptured screaming breaks out.

“...but it was a  _ green _ condom, and had very clearly been used,  _ very thoroughly _ .”

The screams reach a pinnacle. Holster is dragging his hands over his face and making a high pitched shriek, Shitty is crying with laughter, and Nursey looks like he might puke.

“Dude! What the  _ fuck!? _ ” Dex says, eyes enormous and round.

“Yeah. It was pretty gross. I think I had like 3 showers and I threw out everything from my bed. Like pillow, blanket, mattress cover, everything.”

“That might just be the most disgusting thing I ever heard.” Bitty whispers in horror, and Jack gives him a delighted smile so beautiful it’s like a tiny sun, directed right at Bitty.

Bitty’s heart hurts, but apparently Shitty heard him, because he interrupts Jack and Bitty’s moment of quiet.

“You think  _ that’s  _ gross? I have  _ waaaaay  _ worse ones than that, Bits. Hold onto your hats, everyone, is about to get weird.” Shitty cracks his knuckles.

  
  


Chowder falls asleep in his chair around 11:30, and by midnight, Bitty is yawning.

“I think it’s time to hit the hay, guys. I was on the ice this morning doing drills at seven; I’m wiped.” Jack stretches in his seat, and the little strip of skin between his bottoms and sweater is revealed, along with a narrow stripe of dark hair, disappearing underneath the waistband of his plaid sleep pants.

Bitty looks away so fast his neck cramps.

“Awwww, c’mon guys. Stay up with me! I never get to get drunk with you all and  hash out deep personal shit anymore!” Shitty looks betrayed by everyone getting up to go to bed.

Holster elbows Ransom to get his attention, and says with a sly grin, “You’re right, Shits. Jack, why don’t you tell us about the Treaty of Versaille? What was it about again?”

“Uh, well, after World War One, Germany had embargoes on-” Jack starts, oblivious as usual.

“Oh,  _ fucking hell  _ no. Fine. Goodnight, everyone.” Shitty says and levers himself out of his seat.

  
  


Bitty takes his time brushing his teeth, using a bottle of water to rinse and clean the brush after. He unzips the big screen tent they brought for food prep and to sit under if the weather went bad, and sneaks in. They have power from a little hook up provided by the campground, and someone had the aforethought to bring a powerbar so everyone could plug in their phones and some lights.

Bitty squeezes his charger in between Chowder and Nursey’s, and is about to sneak back out when he sees Jack’s phone.

The alert light is blinking.

Bitty glances around, and everyone is in their tents. He isn’t going to unlock it...he’s pretty sure Jack has a code on it, anyway. He just wants to...see.

Bitty touches the centre button, and he blinks. 

There’s an email from someone named Georgia, who Bitty suddenly remembers meeting out on a run with Jack. A text from ‘ _ maman’ _ , and Bitty realizes it’s from Mrs. Zimmerman. 

But it’s the background he stares at, eyes wide and getting wider.

It’s Bitty. It’s a photo from the winter last year, before Christmas, before graduation, before the Falconers and the NHL. Bitty remembers that day perfectly, like he does all the times he spent with Jack over the years, but he doesn’t remember this picture.

It’s sunset by the frozen lake, and Bitty is all bundled up, facing away from the camera. He’s just a silhouette, but Bitty knows it’s him. It’s a beautiful photo, like all Jack’s pictures, but this one...has Bitty in it. 

Bitty swallows hard and turns the screen off, then sneaks back out of the tent.

 

 

Jack is laying on his back, shirtless, in his plaid sleep pants and on top of his sleeping bag when Bitty comes in. He blushes and averts his eyes from the delectable long line Jack’s body makes, with one toned arm behind his head and his legs stretched and crossed at the ankle. 

“Aren’t you gonna freeze?” Bitty mumbles, crawling under the hanging lamp and then into his sleeping bag. They’re sharing a king sized air mattress, but each in their own sleeping back. Jack’s is black; Bitty’s is bright orange.

“Bitty, it’s over ten degrees. It’s not cold.” Jack smirks and says slyly, “If you had more muscle mass, you wouldn’t get so chilled.”

Bitty glares at him. “You ain’t allowed to chirp me if we’re sharing a tent. And,  _ again,  _ I don’t speak Celsius.” 

Jack huffs a laugh and looks back up at the roof of the tent. Bitty lets his eye wander while Jack isn’t looking; it’s the arm nearest him that’s tucked under Jack’s pillow. The nonchalant positioning accentuates his biceps and triceps, how they crease delicately into his armpit, and it pulls up at the corner of his perfect pec muscle. Bitty eyes the little patch of dark hair under his arm, and the thin, pale, delicate skin that conceals little blue veins... and then he looks away. It’s too much, being this close to…. _ all of this.  _

“How’re your parents? Your mom’s good?” Jack asks, looking back at Bitty.

“Oh. Yeah. They’re fine. Um...yours?” 

“Good. Maman says she and my dad are going to Banff this weekend.”

“Uh.” Bity says.

Banff is in Alberta, in the mountains.” Jack replies, rolling his eyes theatrically, “I forget how American you guys are sometimes.”

Bitty sighs and nestles down into his pillow. He stares at the edge of the zipper on Jack’s sleeping bag, and not at Jack’s profile, sharp and gorgeous in the shadowy interior of the tent.

“I’ll get the light.” Jack says, and reaches up with one hand to flick off the caged trouble light. The tent is plunged into darkness, and Bitty listens to the sound of Jack getting under his covers.

“Night, Bits.” Jack says, and it sounds like he’s yawning.

Bitty is quiet, staring into the rustling darkness, words perched on the very edge of his tongue.

It only takes about ten seconds of Jack’s quiet breathing before Bitty can’t help it.

“Why is your lock screen a picture of me?” he blurts.

Silence, then...

“Uh. Well, I mean, it’s a great picture. Don’t you think?”

Bitty lets out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

Of course, that’s why. It’s a beautiful picture, and it could have been anyone. He doesn’t have it as his lock screen because it’s  _ Bitty  _ in the picture. It’s because it’s a nice photo Jack took at Samwell that reminds him of his friends. That’s all.

“Yeah. I like it.” Bitty whispers, and he doesn’t trust himself to project his voice any louder and risk it breaking.

There’s more silence in the tent for a moment, then Jack says, hesitantly,

“It’s...okay that I use it, right?”

Bitty takes a deep breath. His voice is choked in his throat and he has to swallow really hard to get past it. There are tears pooling in his eyes, so he rolls over. It’s dark, so Jack couldn’t see anyway, but nonetheless.

“It’s okay.” He says, and cuddles deeper into his sleeping bag.

 

 

Bitty wakes up to the sound of his own teeth chattering violently.

He’s  _ freezing.   _ It’s pitch black, he’s shivering so hard it hurts and he’s curled into a tight little ball.

“J-j-jesus.” He hisses and wraps his arms tightly around himself.

“Bitty?” Jack’s half-asleep voice comes through the darkness, “ _ Quel _ \- is that...is that your  _ teeth _ chattering?”

“It’s f-f-f- _ fucking freezing,  _ Jack.” he says, and is cut off by another bout of chattering.

“ _ Attache ta tuque.”  _ Jack says, and there’s the sound of fumbling in the darkness.

“What?” Bitty mumbles, clutching his blankets tighter around him.

“Hold on, I said. Here.” There’s a click and a little flashlight comes on, illuminating the inside of the tent. 

Jack is on his knees, and he hands Bitty the little light.

“Get up; I have an idea.” he starts unzipping his sleeping bag.

“What are you d-d-d-doing?” Bitty says, sitting up but still cocooned.

Jack ignores this. “Get out of your bag and unzip it, then get off the air mattress.”

“ _ I ain’t gettin’ out of my b-b-bag! _ ” Bitty’s eyes go wide.

Jack reaches over and unzips Bitty’s zipper a few feet, and Bitty yelps at the inrush of cold air that floods in.

“Just do it. You’ll be warm; just go quick.”

Bitty glowers but gets out of his sleeping bag and unzips it all the way around until it’s just a blanket. Jack takes it from him, shoves Bitty gently off the mattress, flips the orange sleeping bag until it lays out flat, sets out their pillows side by side, and then he throws his unzipped sleeping bag over it.

He glances at Bitty, then turns and rummages through his duffel bag until he finds the sweater he was wearing earlier by the fire. He drags it down over Bitty’s head, briefly covering the flashlight.

“Okay: now get in.” he says, and gets in the new makeshift bed.

Bitty gulps as he gets his arms into the sweater; it smells like smoke and Jack Zimmerman, and  _ oh God  _ is it a wonderful combo. 

Bitty crawls back onto the mattress and gets into what is now his side of the decidedly  _ one _ bed. Jack reaches over and takes the flashlight back, and then clicks it off. It’s dark again.

Bitty hugs Jack’s sweater around himself, and he can feel Jack shuffling behind him.  He shivers again, and his teeth chatter loudly.

“Uh...You’ll warm up faster if I...come closer.” Jack says. He sounds sincere.

Bitty stares into the darkness and wonders again what exactly he did to merit this sort of exquisite, sweet torture.

“F-f-fine.” he says, and hugs himself.

Jack shuffles over until his back is pressed ever so gently against Bitty’s. He’s like a warm solid wall, and Bitty can feel the heat transferring to him almost immediately.

“Thanks.” Bitty says, and closes his eyes. He tries not to think about it.

  
  
  


Someone screams bloody murder just after twilight.

Bitty jerks awake, and would sit up...if he could. 

Which he can’t...because a 6’2, 200lb NHL player is using him like a teddy bear.

Bitty’s head is on Jack’s pillow, which meant it was probably Bitty who did the repositioning first. Nonetheless, Jack’s head is above his, chin rested on the crown of his skull, and one arm is wrapped tightly and protectively around Bitty’s rib cage. 

His skin is warm and soft and  _ very much right there _ and Bitty does some quick thinking. He can’t stay snuggled up with Jack forever, no matter how badly he might want to. 

And then the screaming starts again, this time with words.

“Oh, Jesus. OH, JESUS, FUCK, NO, JESUS, FUCKING NO!”

Bitty feels Jack stir, and he uses that exact second to catapult himself out of bed and to the flap of the tent, which he unzips as fast as he can.

Bitty stumbles out into the early morning light and sees….

Ransom standing on top of the picnic table, holding a large stick, and Holster part way up a tree.

“Bits! Look the fuck out!” Holster yells.

Bitty looks around, panic rising, expecting to see a bear ransacking a tent.

“What? What?” he says, spinning around.

“It’s in the fucking cooler!” Ransom yelps, pointing his stick at the blue cooler.

Bitty blinks. He tiptoes closer and cranes his neck.

The lid of the cooler is ajar, and something inside is  _ smacking _ .

“What is it?” Bitty says, looking up at Ransom. 

Others are starting to emerge from their tents, looking alarmed and half awake.

“It’s a fucking wolverine, man!”

Bitty takes Ransom’s stick and uses it to flip the cooler open. 

Nothing happens.

He comes closer, and looks inside.

In the cooler, sitting on what is now half of a pecan pie, is a mink. It licks it’s chops at Bitty.

“Oh, lord,  _ boys _ ! It’s only a little weasel!” Bitty says, and puts his hands on his hips.

“It’s a fucking wolverine Bits, I swear to god.” Holster hisses from up the tree.

“No. That’s definitely a mink.” Jack is standing behind Bitty, looking over his shoulder into the cooler. He’s gloriously shirtless still, which Bitty doesn’t notice at all. “One lives under the porch at my  _ memere’s _ lakehouse.”

“I heard it chewing!” Ransom exclaims, “It snorted at me when I opened the cooler!”

“It’s eating all the pies!” Chowder says, kneeling in the opening of his tent. He’s in a Sharks t-shirt. 

“Well, he’s eaten half the pecan. But there’s still lots left.” Bitty pokes the stick into the cooler and the mink jumps out. It sniffs the air, looks around at the assembled party, then saunters away into the forest.

Holster falls out of his tree, and everyone goes back to bed for a few hours.

  
  
  


Bitty makes pancakes for everyone around ten a.m., and Lardo and Shitty drive to the nearest coffee shop, ten minutes down the road, and come back with coffee and donuts. 

Bitty saves what wasn’t eaten by the mink, and Holster announces that “wolverine pee or not, will always eat Bitty’s pies.”

Jack stands beside Bitty and helps him flip pancakes, pour batter, and mix more when he needs. He’s silent and smiling a little, and Bitty blushes when their eyes meet.

He’s not sure if Jack exactly  _ knows  _ he was snuggling Bitty part of the night, but Bitty sure as hell ain’t gonna tell him, or ask.

The frogs eat about seven pancakes each, and Jack adds a scoop of cookie dough flavoured protein powder to one batch of batter ‘for the gains.’

“Look at all that tasty new meat he’s put on, Bits; he needs to  _ feed it! _ ” Shitty wraps Jack in a giant bear hug and tries to lift him. He doesn’t succeed.

“Speaking of gains- you too poor to afford a gym membership at that fancy new school of yours, Shits?” Jack looks over his shoulder as Shitty, who is adjusting his grip around Jack’s torso and trying again to lift him.

“That gym is nothing but bourgeoisie ellipticals and weirdos in lycra shorts. It’s not a place for the sane man.”

“Uh...why, exactly, are ellipticals bourgeoisie?” Nursey says, looking confused.

“Oh god, DON’T get him started.  _ Please. _ ” Lardo points her knife at him to silence any further remarks.  

“And since when are you a sane man?” Holster says, with a mouthful of pancakes.

  
  


They take a walk along the beach after breakfast. There’s driftwood everywhere, strange and varied garbage, and a giant dead catfish, for whom they all stand around and mourn briefly over it’s passing. 

“So long, Catfish Bro.” Ransom says, and draws a cross in the air like a cardinal, “You were a radical dude, cruelly taken before your time.”

“Ya well, I think he’s well past his time now, cuz Catfish Bro  _ stanks _ .” Nursey pinches his nose.

 

The rock-skipping competition starts after Bitty experimentally hucks a rock into the water and it skips coincidentally. It turns out, after a few Round Robins, that Chowder is extremely good at skipping rocks.

He gets fifteen skips out of a single rock, and Dex and Nursey stare at him with newfound respect.

“S’wawesome.” Dex says.

Bitty climbs up into a huge dead washed up tree, its bark long since gone, and the bare wood is silver and hard. It’s branches and roots are still mostly intact, and as Bitty walks along the trunk, he gets higher and higher off the ground. He picks a branch and walks up it, arms out for balance.

“Holy sweet fuck, Bits! You got mad balance, bro!” Shitty says, hands on his hips. Lardo takes a picture on her phone.

Bitty is about twenty feet in the air, and he decides to showboat, because he can. He puts one leg out behind him, arms out, and leans forward so his body and leg are parallel to the ground. 

There are appreciative ‘Ooo’-s from everyone watching.

Bitty glances at Jack, who is talking to Holster and laughing and not paying attention.

Typical.

Bitty straightens back up...and then the branch cracks, and in slow motion starts to bend straight down.

Shitty shouts in alarm, then Bitty yelps and grabs at the nearest branch beside him, letting himself swing free as the branch he had been on dangles by a strip of wood, then drops to the beach.

“Jesus,  _ Bits!”  _ Holster shouts, interrupting Jack. Jack whips around and stares, wide eyed.

“I’m good! It’s good!” Bitty says. His voice is slightly muffled by his jacket, as it’s shrugged up around his mouth. His feet dangle in thin air, the long laces of his Converse high tops flapping.

“Bittle! What... _ what the fuck happened! _ ” Jack says, coming running up with Holster, Dex, Ransom and Nursey. Chowder is standing beside Lardo, looking harried.

“The branch broke. That he was standing on.” Shitty says, and comes to stand under Bitty, looking up. He scratches his mustache.

“What the fuck was he doing in a dead tree in the first place?” Jack says, anger bristling in his voice. His accent is more pronounced when he’s angry. He’s effortlessly back to using his Captain Jack voice, the one he used when he yelled at Bitty for cringing away from checks.

“He was being a normal, red blooded male, Jacky.  _ Chill _ ; it’s fine.” Shitty raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nice one, Nursey.” Dex mutters, and Lardo kicks him.

“Uh.” says Chowder, who’s the only one paying attention to Bitty anymore.

“Or, maybe, you could  _ unchill _ and think for a second about how we’re supposed to get him down now.” Jack is shouting, “You’re trying to be a lawyer, for fuck’s sakes, Shitty, could you maybe have not thought about the  _ potential losses _ before you let him  _ climb a giant fucking dead tree? _ ”

“...Guys.” Chowder says, waving a hand to try get their attention. It fails.

“I didn’t  _ let him  _ do anything, Jack, he’s a fucking twenty year old, not a toddler. I’m not here to fucking babysit Bitty.” Shitty is glaring now.

“I...fucking... _ tabarnak de crisse.  _ Bittle!” Jack says, giving up on Shitty and looking up to where Bitty is dangling.

However, where there  _ was _ Bitty, is now thin air.

Behind Jack, someone coughs.

“Uh.” Bitty says, grimacing when Jack rounds on him.

Jack blinks, eyebrows rising.

“It uh...It wasn’t that tough.” Bitty says quietly. He looks down at his shoe and kicks a stone.

“Yeah, Jack, you just randomly decided to be a fucking asshole.” Shitty says, and crosses his arms, “If you’re interested in apologizing, we are going  _ that way _ .” and he starts off back down the beach.

Jack still looks angry.

“What were you thinking? You could have broken your neck!” Jack says, frowning down at Bitty. Bitty realizes for the first time since he first started at Samwell and thought Jack hated him, that Jack Zimmerman is a frighteningly big guy.

“It was just for fun. You’re making a big deal over nothing.” Bitty says. He can feel his cheeks getting hotter.

“It could have  _ not _ been nothing. If you got really hurt, like broke your ankle or hit your head again or something, what….what then?” Jack looks like he’s losing steam. His brow is pinched.

“You aren’t the captain anymore, Jack. It’s not your responsibility to look after me.” Bitty looks up from where he’s been looking at his shoe. “You don’t have to look after me.” he repeats. His voice is hoarse.

Jack’s face falls, and Bitty steps around him.

“I’m going back to camp. I’ll see everyone there.” Bitty says, and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

This way, with no one around, they can’t see his face.

  
  


 

Bitty puts his headphones in, cranks up some Gaga and tidies the campsite when he gets back. He sniffs hard and ignores any stray tears that may or may not escape. It’s not like he’s really expecting Jack to still be the exact same guy who went grocery shopping with him and got things off the high shelves when Bitty couldn’t reach, or the same guy who went for coffee with him any time of the day. It’s not Jack’s fault Bitty feels this way about him, or that it hurts way more than it should when Jack gets annoyed. 

 

It almost feels like time rewound to when Jack would glare at him on the ice and proceed to chew him out in front of the entire team.  _ That  _ old wound hurts too.

But it doesn’t matter.

He can’t be mad at Jack for being straight, can’t be mad at him for being gorgeous and sweet and impatient and tense and nervous and annoyed and...well.

Bitty can’t blame him for anything. 

 

The team gets back to camp about twenty minutes later, and Shitty and Holster are carrying armloads of strangely shaped driftwood. Dex, Nursey, Ransom and Chowder are missing, and Jack is on his phone and looking harried. Bitty makes eye contact with him accidentally, and Jack just looks away. He looks worked up, and somehow that only makes Bitty feel worse.

“What happened to the frogs? Holster?  _ Did you lose them and Ransom in the woods? _ ” Bitty chides, and puts his hands on his hips.

“Naw, man. They found  _ girls. _ ” Holster waggles his eyebrows as he lowers his armload of wood.

Bitty blinks.

“Girls? Like...girls?”

“Ya. Like, human and everything.” Lardo rolls her eyes.

“They had bathtub hooch and a cute dog.” Shitty says. He cracks open a beer.

“The prefered lure of the modern siren.” Holster grins.

Bitty glances at Jack, who is leaning on a tree and has one hand over his eyes as he talks.

“Some guy named Gavin, apparently.” Shitty says in answer to Bitty’s unasked question.

Bitty blushes bright red and turns swiftly back around to his basin of soapy water so no one notices.

“Bro seems mad tense.” Holster says quietly, standing closer to Shitty and Bitty now so Jack can’t hear, “Bits, did he say anything to you last night?”

“No. I don’t know. He didn’t.” Bitty shrugs in forced nonchalance.

“What was that shit about him yelling at you? He went all Robo-Zimmerman mode again, like where fun is against his programming.”

“ _ I don’t know, okay.” _ Bitty says, and it isn’t until he sees the taken aback stares from Shitty and Holster that he realizes he snapped it.

“...Bits? Are you...okay?” Shitty has concern creasing his face.

Bitty takes a long slow breath and closes his eyes.

“I. Yes. I’m fine. I’m just...I’m gonna go for a walk, okay? Just me. I think I need a minute.” He dries his hands on a towel and unrolls his pushed up sleeves.

“Bits, you can tell us if there’s something up.” Holster is frowning too.

“I’m gonna walk. See ya’ll in a bit.” 

Bitty puts his earbuds back in and goes for his walk.

 

 

Holster and Shitty look at each other, worry on both their faces.

“Dude.” Shitty says, “The fuck.”

“No idea.” Holster says. “Maybe their air mattress was super fucking uncomfortable or something.”

Jack comes up to them, brows furrowed. He pockets his phone.

“Where’d Bitty go?”

“Dunno, man. That sounds kinda like ‘none-yo’.” Shitty gives him a hairy eyeball.

“Wh- ‘none yo?” Jack squints in confusion.

“Yeah.  _ None yo damn business. _ ” Holster finishes, and he and Shitty cross their arms unison.

“You flipped out at me, and then at him. And now he’s all blushy and upset.  _ You frazzled the Bits, Zimmerman. _ You haven’t done that since, like, when he first joined the team. Quite frankly, man;  _ the fuck?” _

Jack just stares at them, enormous blue eyes getting wider and wider.

“It was bad, and you should feel bad.” Holster adds.

Jack stands for a second longer and then he’s running, out of the campground and after Bitty.

There’s a moment of silence, then Shitty says, confusion lacing his tone, “...Or like, maybe the pancakes were bad?”

  
  
  


Bitty sits on the driftwood log he and Lardo sat on last night, looking out over the calm lake. He sniffs hard and wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.

His usual ritual of using Beyonce to drown out the sadness following him around, just isn’t working. In fact, it’s only making it worse.

Bitty yanks on the cord in frustration, popping his earbuds out. He stuffs them into his pocket unceremoniously. 

“Bitty?”

Bitty freezes, and turns around.

Jack is standing about ten feet behind him, and he looks unsure and surprised. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his brow is furrowed,  _ again. _

“Oh. Sorry.” Bitty wipes his eyes again and sniffs, “I didn’t see you there.”

Jack seems to sag under an invisible weight.

“...Bits.” he says, and comes closer, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you, it was stupid. I just.... I saw you up there, and I thought suddenly how...how  _ fucking scary  _ it was that you could get hurt, and after your concussion that one time, I just...I just  _ can’t,  _ Bitty. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

Bitty sniffs again and wipes at more traitorous tears. He tries to smile and brush it off.

“Don’t worry about it, Jack. It’s like I said, hah, you don’t have to look after me anymore, so it’s a weight off your shoulders!” He grins a bit shakily.

Jack only looks annoyed and taken aback.

“Wh...Bitty, why would you say that? It’s not like you’re a  _ burden  _ or something.”

“No! No, I just mean...you’re a star now, Jack! You have a real life and stuff to go back to, and you don’t have to be worryin’ your little head about me! It’s fine!” Bitty stands up and waves a hand dismissively. 

Jack suddenly goes from annoyed to angry again.

“Bitty, I’m not going to stop worrying about you just because I’m playing professional hockey. I told you in the car, you guys are like family to me; I don’t just forget about you when you aren’t there. I  _ care  _ about you, Bits.” He gives Bitty what it probably the most earnest look anyone has ever given another person, and repeats quietly, “I’ll always care about you.”

Bitty winces and turns away.

“Please don’t say that.” he hisses, and hugs his arms around himself, turning half away.

“What? Don’t say what?” Jack comes and stands in front of Bitty, eyebrows up now, “I’m not allowed to care about you?”

Bitty looks up into his beautiful face and gorgeous cerulean blue eyes, and he sees genuine hurt reflected there.

“Yes, you are. Of  _ course  _ you are, Jack. It’s just. I…” Bitty sighs. He tries to turn away again, and Jack steps neatly in front of him, blocking his path.

“Just what?” 

“You don’t mean to, I know, but it hurts when you say it, okay?” Bitty blurts. His cheeks are bright red, and frustrated and embarrassed tears are joining the other ones.

Jack is looking more and more confused and upset.

“When...when I say I  _ care about you _ , it hurts?” 

“You don’t mean it like how I want you to mean it, okay?” Bitty straight up yells, and he inhales a sharp breath when he realizes what he just said. 

Jack blinks.

“How do you want me to-” then he stops.

He stares down at Bitty, and his eyes are getting gradually wider and wider.

Bitty is blushing furious crimson.

He expects Jack to start apologizing, saying he’s sorry but he just doesn’t feel that way about Bitty. For him to look uncomfortable, laugh awkwardly and just walk away, which maybe wouldn’t be so bad.

What he doesn’t expect is for Jack to just sit heavily down on the rocks, staring at Bitty, mouth ever so slightly agape.

“Jack!  _ Christmas _ , are you okay?” Bitty says, dropping to his knees in front of him.

Jack just stares and stares at Bitty, disbelief written across his face.

“ _ Je ne comprends pas.”  _ he says quietly.

“Honey, that wasn’t in English.” Bitty is increasingly worried Jack may have had a stroke.

“Bits.” Jack breathes, eyes flitting all over Bitty’s face.

“Yes?” Bitty says.

Jack levers himself forward those few inches and gently,  _ oh so gently _ , presses his lips to Bitty’s. 

 

How many times had Bitty imagined this? Seen Jack smile, smirk, laugh, twist his lips in various half-smiles, and wondered… what it might be like to kiss those lips. Feel them, warm and soft against his mouth; to  _ taste  _ them. How often had he wanted to  _ touch _ , feel the heat of Jack’s skin with his hands and not have to pull away, or pretend he hadn’t meant to do so? 

The answer was probably somewhere in the millions, and now,  _ now _ , Jack was kissing him.  _ For real. _ Not in his imagination, not late at night in the dark with Bitty’s eyes closed, wishing harder than he ever wished for anything that the hands on his body were Jack’s, not his own.

Bitty makes a quiet whimpering noise in his throat at the first gentle motion of Jack’s lips, and Jack pulls back.

When he sees Bitty’s look of utter shock, he immediately recoils, an embarrassed flush leaping onto his cheeks.

“Or...sorry, if you...if I-” he says, and leans away.

Bitty suddenly realizes Jack thinks Bitty  _ doesn’t want this _ , and dear god, he wants it more than anything in this world, so he practically falls forward, grabbing a handful of Jack’s sweater for support, and pulls him closer, their noses side by side.

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Bits?” he says, unsure.

Bitty dives back in, kissing Jack with all he’s worth. Jack makes a surprised but pleased hum, and pulls Bitty closer so he’s kneeling between Jack’s legs. 

Bitty kisses his lower lip, about which he could write sonnets, and then his top lip, about which he could dedicate a symphony. Both his hands are rested on Jack’s chest, and  he’d paint a tribute to the muscles under his hands on the roof of a cathedral if he could. 

Bitty feels Jack’s nose -  _ that nose,  _ oh, how he loves that perfect aquiline nose- beside his, and the scratch of stubble on his unshaven chin and cheeks. 

It’s completely fucking heaven.

After a few seconds of desperate, hungry kissing, they both break for air, staring at one another and gasping.

Bitty can feel Jack’s heart under his palm, hammering away at ten times normal speed.

“You….really?” Jack says, blue eyes enormous and vulnerable.

“Oh, sweetheart.  _ Yes. _ For a million years, yes. Did you...did you not  _ notice _ ?”

“What? No! You...you didn’t notice  _ me? _ ” Jack is completely incredulous.

“You?! I thought you were straight right up until the moment you were kissin’ me!” Bitty says, hands fisted in Jack’s hoodie.

Jack just stares at Bitty.

Bitty stares at Jack.

“Well. I mean… I’m  _ bi,  _ but  _ tabernak  _ Bitty; I’ve been throwing myself at you practically all year, never mind this weekend! I gave you a piggy back ride, for Christ’s sake!”

Bitty blinks.

“Jack Zimmerman, if a piggyback ride constitutes down and dirty flirting for you, I think I understand where we got all turned around.”

Jack blinks then too.

And then they’re laughing. They’re laughing, and Bitty throws his arms around Jack’s neck and there are tears pouring down his cheeks, but this time they’re  _ good  _ tears. 

Bitty buries his face into Jack’s neck and giggles despite himself.

“ _ Qu'est-ce que c'est? _ ” Jack says, and Bitty lived with Jack long enough to know that means ‘what is it?’

“You!” Bitty says, leaning back so he can see Jack’s face. He has both his hands on Jack’s neck and face, and god if that isn’t a wonderful new feeling. “I can’t believe that this... _ this, _ ” he gestures between them, “is real! I’ve wanted you so bad for so long, and now here you are, tellin’ me you’ve been chasin’ me this whole time!”

Jack smiles, and he’s so stupidly handsome that Bitty’s heart feels burst.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Bits. I… can’t lie and say it’ll be easy, but I  _ want this _ . With you. I  _ really  _ want this” he looks incredibly earnest again.

Bitty swallows and nods fervently. “I want this too. I’ve wanted this for  _ months _ , Jack, but I was so worried! When I saw you at that gala in New York, you looked so famous and handsome and gosh...I… I thought you’d never look at me again.”

Jack shakes his head at Bitty and kisses him, lightly, on the lips. 

Bitty tries to follow him back, to make the kiss last, but Jack is too fast.

“I never stopped looking at you. I never will, if I can help it. You’re perfect, Bits.” 

Bitty sniffs again and kisses Jack soundly, if a little wetly, and then shakes his head and buries his face back into his neck.

“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Zimmerman.” he clings to Jack, and his body is warm and welcoming.

They sit that way for a minute or so, just holding each other and reveling in the beautiful newness.

“Hey Bitty.” Jack says quietly in his ear.

“Yes?”

“Will you swim with me?”

Bitty sits up and extricates his limbs from Jack’s. He stands up, takes a step backwards and says primly, “Sure...if you can catch me.”

And then Bitty takes off running down the beach.

Jack is up in a flash and running across the big stones after him. Bitty’s legs are long and he’s fast as hell, but Jack is in peak condition, and he scoops Bitty up inside of 500 yards. It doesn’t help either of them that they’re both laughing too hard to breathe.

Bitty kicks and squeals, but Jack holds on and carries him into the water, fully dressed. By the time they’re actually wet, Bitty has turned around to face him and they’re kissing in the sun, flushed across their cheeks. Bitty’s arms are around Jack’s neck and Jack’s hands are clutching Bitty to him, and for the first time in a long time, Bitty is so happy it almost aches.

  
  


When they get back to camp later, they’re both so cold they’re shivering, with blue lips and numb extremities. They strip down to their boxers and sit under a sleeping bag by the fire, while everyone else drinks beer and discuss...who knows what.

All Bitty knows is that when Jack pulls him into his lap under the shared blanket, no one bats an eye. Maybe… maybe things would be okay, after all. It sure felt that way.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah; Shitty and Lardo are collecting driftwood for Lardo to make art/sculptures with.
> 
> Attaché ta tuque: wait a second (lit trans.: hold on to your hat)


End file.
